


Mini Me

by Tamuril2



Series: Walking in the Stars [17]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-28 03:38:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13262850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamuril2/pseuds/Tamuril2
Summary: Part 1 - Garak is, suddenly, much smaller. Or, the one where Julian tries REEEALLY hard not to laugh (he fails that, epically), and take care of his miniature friend (he does marginally better in this regard), all while making sure that Dukat doesn’t find a way to kill his arch-nemesis (he does surprisingly well with that task too)Part 2 - Somehow, when Bashir is shrunken, it's not as funny as when Garak was.AU No slash





	1. Garak

Bashir's mouth twitched.

Garak steadfastly ignored him.

The corner of the human's lips tried to curl up.

Garak's small arms crossed over his chest.

Bashir's entire body seemed to vibrate then.

Garak let out a tiny sigh. "Oh, just get it over with, Doctor."

The good doctor collapsed onto the couch, laughing so hard tears sprang to his eyes.

“I-I'm s-s-sorry,” he stuttered between heaving laughs. “R-r-really, I a-a-am.”

“Of course.”

Bashir stuffed the last few chuckles away. He wiped his eyes. “Honestly, I am. I know this is no laughing matter. It must be…”

Garak peered up at him.

Bashir had become a little pale.

“Doctor?” Garak pressed, something like indigestion nagging at his gut.

“I'm sorry. You must be struggling with all this, and here I am laughing at you. After you trusted me with your care.” Bashir flushed.

Garak smirked. Humans and their ‘feelings’. “Come now, Doctor, if situations were reversed, I might indulge in a chuckle or two myself.”

Bashir shook his head. “You might, but…how are you feeling?”

Garak let the obvious subterfuge work. “Well enough…for being all of four inches high.”

A snort escaped Bashir. He colored again. “Sorry. Right. Mind if I run a scan on you?”

Garak waved a teeny hand – hating how weak it looked. “Of course not. Proceed.”

Bashir clicked open the grey tricorder – it now seemed the size of a small nomad ship to Garak – and rushed the thing up and down. Garak shuddered as he felt the ion particles hit his body. Small as it was now, he could feel every bombardment like a little pinch. He hadn't told that to Bashir, of course. These scans were necessary to returning him to normal size. Had he told Bashir, the human would've overreacted and stopped all tests.

Most inconvenient.

Therefore, Garak endured in silence.

That didn't mean the doctor's genetically enhanced eyes didn't pick up the shivers. Huge eyes narrowed into cavern-like slits. “Are you still cold?”

“A bit,” Garak allowed. Better an imagined weakness, then a real one. “I can bear it.”

“But I can –“

“Doctor, you'll find that when a Cardassian says 'he can bear it', he can.” Garak softened his gaze – humans always fell for the 'puppy eyes'. “I'd prefer you not turn the heat up anymore.”

“All right then.” Bashir snapped shut the tricorder. “But if it continues into tomorrow, I'm overriding your decision.”

Garak liked the way the man said 'your decision'. Sentimental as it was, it made Garak feel as if he had a modicum of control left. A ripple of ire passed through Garak's bones. How far had he fallen to want reassurances from a human? Tain would…no, Garak pushed that thought out.

“Here,” Bashir's voice announced.

A second later a plate – Garak sized – lay in from of Garak. The Cardassian raised a ridged brow. Larish pie? The doctor must be more worried than Garak supposed. He eyed the human watching him expectantly. Oh, very well, he'd pander to the man's sensibilities.

A few minutes later he cursed himself for it.

Bashir had obviously put sedatives in his meal.

Curse his human sense of kindness!

Garak vowed…

He never did get to finish that vow, as the sedatives worked their magic and Garak – trained operative of the obsidian Order – fell asleep.

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

Something was off. Garak could feel it. Had been feeling it for a day now. He slid down the couch's back and onto its arm. The room’s door hissed open and Bashir crossed the darkened room, several times glancing at where he thought Garak was still asleep.

Intriguing.

What was the good doctor trying to hide from him now?

“Computer, lights full,” Garak commanded. Days into this awkward situation, Bashir had made O'Brien program the station computer to be able to hear and obey Garak's now tiny voice commands. Now, Garak was grateful for that oversight.

Bashir yelped and cringed at the room suddenly bathed in bright lights. He blinked.

“Doctor,” Garak shouted – at this distance, he had to, or else Bashir might not hear him, even with his enhanced ears.

Bashir found him, and darted to his side. “Garak, I thought you were asleep. Is everything all right? Are you sick? New symptoms?”

The doctor started to search for his tricorder.

“No, Doctor, I am quite all right.” Garak had no need to shout, now that Bashir was this close. He welcomed that. It was humiliating to have to stoop to such measures to be heard.

Bashir's large brow furrowed. “Then why –”

“This is the second evening you’ve exhibited caution when entering your rooms.”

“Oh. Really?” Bashir rubbed – self-consciously, Garak thought – at his wrist. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Come now, Doctor, you expect me to believe that?”

“….”

“It’s Dukat, I presume,” Garak stated. “He’s found out that I’ve…shrunken.”

“That's…” Bashir trailed off at Garak's hardened look. “If you must know, he's been trying to get to you since yesterday.”

“To eliminate me, I suppose.”

“That  _was_  the implication he gave.”

“I suppose he’s tried to ‘force’ the issue on you?”

“We’ve talked.” Bashir gave a wan smile. “I refused.”

“That went over well, I take it.”

“As ever.”

“How droll.” Garak promised himself to hurt Dukat where it counted when this was all resolved. How dare that male! Bashir was his…Garak refused to use the word 'friend'. Too soft. Asset. Yes, Bashir was his asset. Dukat had made a mistake in harming such a useful one, such as Bashir.

It simply would not do.

But for now: “He might have at least tried the transporters first.”

“Garak!” Bashir's eyes snapped fire. “He's threatened your life! This isn't the time to joke.”

“Ah, but I find a bit of humor always helps, doctor.” Garak settled himself comfortably on the couch arm.

“…He won't get you, Garak.” Bashir's shoulders straightened. “I've told Odo and Captain Sisko about it. There's already two security guards outside now.”

“I feel safer already.”

“You really can't help yourself, can you? Insulting people, I mean.”

“I will have you know, I was being nothing but honest and truthful in that statement.”

“Even the lies…” Bashir sighed, a fond smile playing on his face.

Garak grinned. “Especially the lies.”


	2. Julian

As is the way of the universe, especially when dealing with friends ( _assets_ , Garak firmly reminds his sentiments), karma loves to play both sides of the team. Bashir dared to laugh at Garak’s misfortune, therefore, the good doctor was due his own humiliation – and Garak awaits with calm assurance. He prepares a few choice words. Something that will get across his point of how helpless it feels to be made fun of at that height, while also not going far enough to really damage the man’s fragile ego. Yet, when Bashir _is_ shrunken to the size of four inches….well, it is decidedly _less_ funny than Garak’s experience.

In fact, it almost kills the human.

And it does so without holding back.

In plebeian terms: Section 31 captures Bashir.

Captain Sisko immediately informs Starfleet command.

Oh, but Starfleet has _no knowledge_ of the theft (good heavens no, Section 31 doesn’t exist, after all….to anyone who isn’t important enough…which is a long list).

But Garak knows just the right people to….well…let’s say ask.

(he asks politely, of course)

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

_“You can do better than this,” he tells the Ferangi._

_The establishment is closed for the night. Already, most of the station’s inhabitants are sleeping in their assigned quarters. Only the very few are awake – the illegal, and those on shift._

_Garak plays with the data file, running a nail down the clear glass. “You think me a fool.”_

_“Of course not.” Quark squirms under his gaze._

_Garak relishes in that for a moment, before tossing it aside as a useless indulgence. He smiles, placing the data file on the table between them. “Oh, but how else can I take this?”_

_Oh, why not?_

_He indulges._

_Garak grabs the front of Quark’s shirt and drags him close. “You must think me a fool, to give me this_ garbag _e.”_

_The last word comes out a quiet hiss._

_Quark swallows, loud. “Look, I’m sure we can come –”_

_“Constable,” Garak interrupts. “Now would be an excellent time to come out, if you don’t wish me to harm him.”_

_Nothing._

_Then:_

_The chair to their left ripples to gold, then solidifies as the form of Odo. Quark’s beady eyes widen. However, the shapeshifter only raises an imperfect eyebrow. “Now, why would I be worried about that?”_

_“Constable!” Quark smarms. “So glad you’re here. I was –”_

_“About to give Garak all the necessary information on Doctor Bashir. Yes, I know.” Odo leans again the bar. “Please, don’t let me stop you.”_

_Garak pushes Quark back into his seat, releasing his shirt. “Talk.”_

_“I….” Quark licks his teeth with a quick tongue. “Look, it’s all hearsay.”_

_Garak narrows his eyes._

_“But,” Quark scrambles to continue, “I heard from a very reliable source that Section 31 has Bashir.”_

_“How reliable?” Odo asks._

_“Very,” Quark snarks. “Fifteenth cousin on my father’s side. Owes me some latinum.”_

_“Good enough,” Garak assures Odo, when the shapeshifter glances at him. He turns back to their informant. “Where?”_

_“Near the Delta moon in the Dagobah system.”_

_The shapeshifter nods, and then frowns at Quark. “You might want to leave.”_

_“What? But this is my –!”_

_“You know, I’m sure the Section is going to be quite willing to kill anyone who is connected to our…project,” Garak muses to Odo._

_Quark’s gone faster than a Dabo girl on latinum._

_Odo straightens. “I’ll inform the Captain.”_

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

As Garak told Sisko, Starfleet channels are of no use to them in this.

Which is why Sisko had Garak – unofficially – hire a mercenary who knows that region of space well.

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

_The screen crackles as the worn, helmeted face looks over Garak’s proposal. It only takes a moment for the man to catch the slight discrepancy. “This isn’t nearly my rate, even discounted.”_

_“Risa.”_

_The mercenary’s anger is palpable. “I repaid that.”_

_“You did?”_

_“In full. As you well know.”_

_“Ah well,” Garak smiles. “It was worth a try. By the way, how is Janda’s woman doing these days?”_

_Silence._

_Garak smiles more._

_He keeps well informed of all his assets._

_Finally: “One week.”_

_“Agreed.” Garak transfers half the money._

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

**(One week later)**

 

The shell they got back isn’t even recognizable as Bashir. Oh, his small body is the same – barring a few scraps and incisions – and his clothes are not rags – Boba charged a few extra for that – but the light in those dark eyes is dead. No one’s there. Yes, Bashir follows the movement of everyone who enters O’Brien’s quarters. Flinches, even, if they get too close. But he never speaks, never really moves, hardly sleeps or eats.

They got the doctor’s body, but not his soul.

And, as more time goes on, the station mourns the loss of a good friend and man.

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

The door slides open without a sound.

Garak steals in, locking the codes behind him.

He will not be interrupted.

Tiny eyes glitter in the dim light as they watch him cross the space between them. Garak stops a few paces before reaching the table. Bashir hunches inward, body ready to protect itself should he get nearer.

Garak studies him.

“Pity,” he says at last. “I thought you stronger than this.”

The small body trembles.

“Ah well, disappoint on both sides, I suppose.” He turns to leave. “Sad, how you gave up so quickly.”

Something hits his back. Bashir’s dinner plate, perhaps? Garak doesn’t look back. He walks to the door, codes it open, nods to an angry looking O’Brien and worried Odo, and then strides away.

 

0/0/0/0/0

 

When he next sees Bashir, the human is his regular height again.

“This seat taken?” a tentative voice asks.

“Ah, Doctor, I see you are exceeding expectations. I had heard you were not to be released from Sickbay until tomorrow.”

Bashir chuckles softly as he sits down. “Yes, well…”

They eat in silence a few minutes.

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry?”

Bashir flushes. “Thank you.”

“Why, Doctor, I didn’t know you enjoyed Cardassian music so much!” Garak oozes happiness. “I’ll be sure to include more with my next book selection.”

Bashir’s brow wrinkles a little, he opens his mouth, closes it, and shakes his head. “All right.”

“It was nothing,” Garak tells him. “I, too, enjoy that selection of song.”

Bashir sighs. “Just another story, then?”

“But of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone wasn't too OOC, and that it was a believable plot line. I couldn't help but include a Star Wars reference. :D 
> 
> *Just another story refers to when Julian accuses/asks Garak which stories Garak told about himself (in The Wire episode) were true, and which not. Garak replies that all are. This is just Julian's way of saying Garak's not going to admit to helping him, and thus adding to Garak's never-ending "stories". Hope that makes sense.
> 
> Review?


End file.
